


But I'm Your Favourite!

by TheWritingGuineapig (Aridette)



Series: Short Haytham/Connor Stories [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, templar!Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-02-20 04:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2415284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aridette/pseuds/TheWritingGuineapig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to the very talented HLine/wondersmithofastronautalis because I love "A Poison Tree" so much and because that story made me fall in love with Templar!Connor to begin with.</p><p>(Though this has hardly anything in common with your own epic story I hope you might like it a bit <3)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HLine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HLine/gifts).



> Dedicated to the very talented HLine/wondersmithofastronautalis because I love "A Poison Tree" so much and because that story made me fall in love with Templar!Connor to begin with.
> 
> (Though this has hardly anything in common with your own epic story I hope you might like it a bit <3)

 

 

 

“Why does it bother you so much, lad?”, John Pitcairn asked.

Ratonhnhaké:ton grumpily looked at his Templar brother.  
“He does not need a wife.”, was his simple answer.

Thomas Hickey chuckled at this, but Ratonhnhaké:ton's warning glare shut him up. He continued grinning at the young man, though.  
Yes, Thomas knew fully well why _exactly_ Haytham's upcoming wedding was bothering Ratonhnhaké:ton so much.  
He'd found out completely by accident, one of the times he had been a guest at his Grandmaster's plantation about four years ago:

In the dead of the night Thomas went down to search the Kenways' cellar for something to drink. What he found instead was Ratonhnhaké:ton who was sitting between two barrels in a rather compromising position, softly yet desperately whining for his father.  
First Thomas couldn't stop laughing about the shocked face the teenager made as soon as he realised he'd been caught. But soon Thomas sat down beside the embarrassed and scared Ratonhnhaké:ton and promised he wouldn't tell anyone.  
Then they talked.  
This wasn't the weirdest way Thomas Hickey had become friends with someone.  
For Ratonhnhaké:ton it certainly was.

“The boy is right.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't have to turn around to recognise the owner of this voice.

“Charlie! No' breedin' ya dogs today?”, Thomas greeted the new arrival. Charles Lee ignored this vulgarity: he already knew this 'joke'.

“The truce with the European Templars could have been accomplished without a marriage to secure it.”, he continued as he took the seat next to Ratonhnhaké:ton. “Also, we _do_ know how easily Haytham can be distracted by women.”

William Johnson closed his book and put it in his lap. Gently he said: “He was young back then, Charles.”

“And in love.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton added quietly.

Charles gave him an icy look.  
“ _Of course_ he was.”

Before Ratonhnhaké:ton could snap at his least favourite comrade, his second least favourite, Benjamin Church, mused: “It's good that our finances are safer this way, but does it really have to be a _Spanish_ woman? She could be a spy.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton's anger grew by the second.  
“She is one of us. It does not matter where she was born.”

 “Didn't you want to say something _against_ the marriage?”, Church scoffed.

 Ratonhnhaké:ton mumbled an insult in his mother tongue – which made William cough and Charles' eyes widen in disbelief – and stormed out of the tavern. He needed fresh air.

 

* * *

 

 

One place never failed to calm Ratonhnhaké:ton: the harbour.  
He began to relax as he sat down on the small roof of a warehouse close to the sea. The sun set, it's light dancing over the waves like blood and gold. The sound of the ocean mingled with the noise of the people on the streets.  
Ratonhnhaké:ton firmly believed in his father's teachings and would never understand why he allowed scum like Church and Lee to be Knights of the Templar Order. Didn't he always preach how important it was that only men and women who sought to create a better world for everyone's sake should be allowed in their midst? Lee was a monster in Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes and Church only sought to increase his own wealth.  
Once again anger filled his chest.  
True, Thomas never got tired of telling him how uninterested he was in anything but his own pleasures, but Ratonhnhaké:ton knew better. He actually was a loyal comrade as well as a friend and he had never seen him killing unnecessarily or inflicting pain on others without a reason.  
Thomas, William, Major Pitcairn, Captain Biddle and his father were real Templars, worthy of the cross.  
Taking a glance at his own ring the pulsing sound in his ears gradually died down. The hot and sour feeling in his chest was replaced by a gentle warmth. In his fathers eyes he was worthy of bearing the cross, too.  
It was strange, though, he thought. If he had gone after the Templar henchman on the rooftop just as Achilles had told him during his first visit in Boston instead of running to his father to talk to the man, he would now probably proudly wear the Assassins' insignia instead.  
He furrowed his brows. Ratonhnhaké:ton sometimes was appalled at the thought how easily he had almost become his father's enemy, fighting for a naïve and dangerous cause.  
His fingers traced the ruby cross on his silver ring, gleaming like fire in the low sunlight.  
Still, he couldn't forget the pictures the spirit had shown him. Destruction, chaos, death. But this was in fact the opposite of what the Templars wanted, so why had she told him to stop the people under the cross?

Lost in thought he didn't notice his father until he took a seat beside him and began to talk.  
“I knew I could find you somewhere near the ships.”

“Good evening, father.”, he greeted, dumbfounded.

Haytham narrowed his eyes slightly before the corners of his mouth twitched up a bit.  
“Good evening, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”, he replied slightly amused. “I was actually worried when you didn't show up for the meeting, boy. But then the others told me you had an argument with Benjamin _again_ and dashed off without telling anyone where you were heading.”

“I was in time for the meeting. _You_ were not.”

“Then I owe you my deepest apologies, I presume?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton remained silent for a while, pouting.  
“Church is …”, for a moment he searched for a word that was properly conveying the many layers of his disgust for the man, “an _arsehole_.”  
  
Haytham tutted.  
“Has Thomas taught you that?”

“He uses this word occasionally. But colonists are swearing wherever I meet them. It is easy to pick up some of it.”

“I guess it is, Ratonhnhaké:ton, but you are no child and can clearly differ between appropriate and inappropriate words. It doesn't befit using such … colourful expressions for your brothers.”  
As Haytham noticed his son nervously playing with his ring, he paused.  
“But you don't want to talk about Benjamin.”, he waited a moment for Ratonhnhaké:ton's answer, but as he wasn't given one, he prodded deeper: “There's something troubling you. Tell me what it is, son.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton cocked his head a bit to one side, considering his reply.  
“There is a favour I want to ask of you.”

“Well then, spit it out, it's getting cold up here.”

“Do not marry, father.”

Taken aback, Haytham frowned in honest confusion.  
“Now, where does that come from all of a sudden?” He sighed quietly. “If this is about Benjamin's _ridiculous_ idée fixe of Señorita de Ferrer being a spy –”

“No.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton interrupted, “This is about you and me.”  
  
Haytham stayed quiet, his brows furrowing even further.

“I do not want you to fall in love with her.”

“Goodness, boy! Don't make such a fuss about it. This is not about love, it's an political arrangement.”, he almost chuckled.

Ratonhnhaké:ton grew impatient.  
“You _will_ come to love her if she bears you a child! Also: What does _she_ think about this arrangement? Was she even asked? Or is she only a pawn in your game?”, he snapped.

Haytham narrowed his eyes dangerously.  
“I thought this was about the two of us, Ratonhnhaké:ton?”

“It is unfair to her, too!”

“Stop hiding behind your sympathy and explain yourself!”, Haytham commanded, voice low but his tone making it clear that it would be unwise to think him patient.

Gathering all his courage, Ratonhnhaké:ton took a deep breath before locking eyes with his father.  
His mouth had suddenly gone bone-dry. His cheeks and ears felt warm, his heart was beating so loudly he was convinced it must be audible for anyone walking on the streets below.  
His father was going to be disgusted with him, he was sure. Panic slowly but surely began to fill his mind. But he wanted – he _needed_ – to tell him about how he felt or he'd burst.  
“I love you, father.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton said as firmly as he could manage.

Haytham blinked and opened his mouth. Ratonhnhaké:ton could see the words _'I love you, too, son, but that's not the point here'_ dying on his father's lips as realisation kicked in.  
“ _Oh._ ”, was all Haytham managed to say.

 

Silence.

 

Then:

“I, erm …”, he tried again. Ratonhnhaké:ton had never before seen his father stammer.  
“I'm truly flattered.”, Haytham finally finished his sentence calmly, gentle pity in his voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On another note, if you're into ConHayth you might be interested in our Secret Santa Project. Though it is launched on tumblr you won't need a tumblr-account to join. Sign-ups and further details can be found over here: [ConHaythSecretSanta2014](http://conhaythsecretsanta2014.tumblr.com/)  
> We're just a few people at the moment and would be very glad to welcome more of you in our midst! =)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [EDIT 21.11.14: I re-read the entry in the Animus Database from III and appareantly "The Green Dragon" was called "The Freemasons' Arms" at the time this story takes place, so I changed it for the whole chapter. Just writing this so no one is confused about the change =)]

 

 

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton kicked a chimney. After his humiliating confession and several minutes of awkward silence his father had returned to The Freemasons' Arms, leaving Ratonhnhaké:ton to restlessly wander the city's rooftops in solitude.

Standing there, watching over Boston from a bird's eye view, he remembered the first time his father had shown him the city from above. Though back then hadn't been his first time in Boston there were so many things to learn about the city and the settlers in it that he hadn't found their tour boring at all. But actually, the thing he remembered most vividly was his father's face, cheeks and nose red from the harsh wind and a smile on his lips, only for Ratonhnhaké:ton.  
It had been before he had joined the Templars and he and Haytham still hadn't quite known how to deal with each other. Still, his father had always taken time off for him.  
The first months had been difficult; Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn't have a conversation with his father without telling him that Charles Lee had to die. Haytham would grow impatient, Ratonhnhaké:ton angry and they always parted ways after their fights.  
Several times he had been scared that his father had lost interest in him and his disagreeable behaviour. In such moments he had wondered if he had to kill Haytham after all. He had doubted he could still do it.  
Remembering these past uncertainties helped his heavy heart to feel a bit lighter. Whatever his father might think of him now, it was alright; as long as they were united in the Templar cause, everything was alright.  
When he had returned his name, blades and robes to Achilles, this thought had kept him strong.  
No matter what his former mentor or the spirit had told him, his people were safe now, protected by his brothers, and his father was at his side.

Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head. He was miles away from their tavern and the sun was already rising in the east, painting the sky a frosty blue and the tip of the ocean's waves pink. Fighting back a yawn he went to return to the inn; maybe he could still sleep for a few hours before there was work to do.

 

Quietly opening the door of The Freemasons' Arms, Ratonhnhaké:ton almost punched poor old Mr Faulkner out of surprise – his mind occupied by the single thought of his warm bed – as his former first mate patted him on the back just before he went inside.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes grew wide.  
“I bid you a good day, Mr Faulkner.”, he muttered apologetically.

“Good to see you, lad!”

Ratonhnhaké:ton stood in the doorway hesitatingly, giving Mr Faulkner a questioning look.

Mr Faulkner took a moment to understand, then waved him off.  
“I actually wanted to see you, Connor. It's 'bout The Aquila, -”

“I do not go by that name anymore.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton interrupted. “You can call me 'Ratonhnhaké:ton'. If you find that difficult to pronounce 'Don' is also alright.”

Mr Faulkner scratched his beard.  
“Aye, the old man told me. It's just funny, you know. I mean, it's just a name, boy.”  
  
“For him it is not.”

“But really! _'Don'_?”, he blurted out, “What dimwit gave you that idea!”

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled softly at Mr Faulkner's apparent indignation.  
“What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

 “Ah! Yes, that. As I said, this is 'bout The Aquila.”, he began his explanation, turning to walk to the harbour. Ratonhnhaké:ton followed, sighing silently, his hopes of sleep vanished into thin air.  
“When you left you told me no Templar would attack her.”

“That is correct.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton said with a frown. He had made sure that all of their naval associates knew that this particular vessel was under the Grand Master's son's protection.

“Well, you see this absolute twit of a harbour master said I can't do any business 'cause she's an Assassin's ship!”, he yelled, snorting with rage.

Mr Faulkner's face had turned redder with every word he spoke, at the end it appeared almost purple. Holding his hands up in an attempt to appease the old Assassin, Ratonhnhaké:ton was quick to answer with a soft voice:  
“I will talk to him. Do not worry.”

 

 Only about half an hour later the matter was settled. The harbour master was on the Templar's pay list and he had only once made the mistake to argue with Ratonhnhaké:ton; Haytham himself had paid him and his family a nightly surprise visit shortly after. Though muttering under his breath of favouritism and savage bastards he could do little to disobey a high-ranking Templar. So Ratonhnhaké:ton ignored the man's rudeness and turned to Mr Faulkner to talk instead.

“No-one in Boston will hinder your businesses from now on. I will also send word to other cities' harbours under our influence if needed.”

Mr Faulkner nodded his thanks but then paused to stare at his former captain in silence. After a while he said with an earnest expression which made Ratonhnhaké:ton nervously fiddle with his hands:  
“I don't condemn you, lad, like Achilles does. I've seen too much to believe that one side or the other is inherently good or evil, you know. Maybe …”, he cleared his throat, “Maybe even the Templars aren't so bad as long as you're with them.”  
He paused again and Ratonhnhaké:ton wanted to say something nice in return but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound hollow.  
“Well, yeah. Just wanted to … you know … Anyway, thank you for washing that dunce's head! The settlers on the old man's land sent me here with some goods to sell and I'd have been real sad to disappoint them people. And it's good for me to have some work to do, too.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton cleared his throat.  
“I – ”, he began, but was interrupted by the harbour master.

“Oi, Master Kenway! Master Kenway!”, he shouted loud enough for the entire docks to hear, frantically waving a piece of paper.

“It was good to see you, Mr Faulkner. Please convey greetings from me to the people of the home- … of the settlement.”  
Ratonhnhaké:ton hurried to go.

“Stay safe, lad.”

 

“You deaf?!”, the harbour master greeted Ratonhnhaké:ton as soon as he came back.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“I am not. But you must be stupid to be rude to me. _Again_.”

“Yeah? Will ya run crying to ya pa _again_ so he can scare me children in the dead o' the night?”

“Maybe _I_ will visit you next time.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton replied calmly.

The harbour master eyed Ratonhnhaké:ton's weapons with suspicion and decided to swallow another ill-conceived remark in the process.  
“Damn blackmailers.”, was all he muttered. Then he handed over the paper he had been waving before.  
“That letter's for Master Kenway senior. It's important; at least that's wha' the lad from The Santa Teresa told me.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton froze. The Santa Teresa was the ship de Ferrer had taken. It wasn't expected until later that week, though.  
“The Santa Teresa is in Boston?”, he asked in disbelieve.

“Aye, arrived wi' the sun today. Pretty good winds, them Spanish say.”

If The Santa Teresa was here, Carina de Ferrer must be, too.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's heart sank. So his father would definitely marry after all …  
He ignored the lump building in his throat and concentrated on the task at hand: bidding his fellow Templar a warm welcome in the colonies. Looking the pier up and down with his special vision he frowned. No golden glow as far as he could see. Ratonhnhaké:ton blinked back to his normal view.  
“Was there a woman on board?”

The harbour master snorted.  
“No woman, just a grumpy bunch of dirty ol' sailors. But that's enough of ya questions; I don't know nothing. Now leave me be, redskin!”

 

* * *

 

The answer as to why Haytham's spouse-to-be hadn't been on board The Santa Teresa surely was to be found in the letter. Ratonhnhaké:ton felt the urge to rip it open to solve this mystery, but the envelope was neatly and definitely addressed to his father (“ _for Mister H. E. Kenway, to be confided to The Freemasons' Arms tavern, Boston”_ , written in tiny, squiggled letters) as well as sealed, so he didn't dare. Instead he safely tugged the letter into one of his coat's pockets and went off to hand it over to its rightful owner.  
The mysterious letter occupied his thoughts so thoroughly that he opened the door to his father's room without knocking. He fished the correspondence out of his pocket, examining the envelope once again briefly.

Father, there is a le-”, Ratonhnhaké:ton broke off as he looked up from the paper and into the smallish room.  
His head refused to work for a second.

His father stood there, fully clothed except for his breaches which pooled around his ankles. Thomas knelt in front of his Grandmaster, his head right in front of Haytham's bare crotch.  
Haytham hissed curses and turned his back at his son as he hastily pulled his breaches back up. Thomas seemed less bothered by the sudden disruption; he lazily got up from his knees and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before flashing Ratonhnhaké:ton a grin.  
“Hey, Donny.”, he greeted friendly.

“What is the meaning of this?”, Ratonhnhaké:ton demanded to know. The numbness he had initially felt was overtaken by boiling rage.  
“The two of you do this regularly?”  
His whole body began to tremble, his hands curled into fists, crumbling the letter.  
He had thought Thomas his friend.

“Son …”, Haytham began cautiously as he had straightened his cloths and turned to face Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Ratonhnhaké:ton crossed the room with few, swift strides.  
“This”, he grimaced, pressing the crushed envelope in the hand of his tense father, “came for you.”  
Then he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

 

Out of the tavern.

 

Out of the city.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO very sorry for the delay, loves!  
> But now I've written all 4 chapters (chpt 4 is currently being beta-read) plus one very short very sweet epilogue as a little compensation for the long wait. I'll upload them during the next week.  
> I sincerely hope you people enjoy the rest of my smallish story =)  
> Thank you for still reading ;__; ♥

His breath was even and his nose burned from the cold air. Winter had come early this year.  
He drew his bow in one swift, fluid motion, not making a sound. The deer on the ground beneath him didn't even flinch, busily peeling off a nearby tree's bark, unaware of the hunter above.  
Usually being out in the Frontier never failed to clear Ratonhnhaké:ton's head. Lately, however, even when hunting his mind was always occupied; the incident two weeks ago continuously nagging at him.  
While he should be concentrating on nothing but giving the animal a fast death, a voice inside his head whispered: “It is your fault, not theirs. And you know it.”  
 _The father of understanding guides me_ , he repeated like a mantra in his head to calm down.  
Ratonhnhaké:ton concentrated on his own breathing, taking aim.  
 _The father of understanding guides me._  
 _The father of understanding-_ “You are _sick_.”, the voice hissed.  
The arrow missed. The deer jumped away, vanishing from sight into thicker underbrush.  
He cursed.

As the sun set he returned to his camp. Ratonhnhaké:ton looked down at the two unlucky hares he had managed to snare earlier: a day's work; his mind had been elsewhere the entire day.

He was sitting by the fire, his stomach full, his back freezing, when a group of hunters came trudging towards him through the freshly fallen thin layer of snow and asked if they could join the camp for the night. Though they were wrapped in pelts, two rather young-looking men amongst them were shaking like leaves, so Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed and handed them his leftovers.  
He was actually glad about the company; with half a dozen bragging men around it was quite difficult to get lost in dark thoughts after all.

After a while of listening to the elder hunters' stories, Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded at the still trembling pair opposite him and asked:  
“Why is it that you are so cold? Your clothing seems sufficient to me.”

The left one laughed weakly. Ratonhnhaké:ton noticed that he had a slightly darker complexion than his comrade.  
“We just arrived in the colonies.”, the man answered with a melodic accent. “Where we come from it hardly gets this cold. We're not used to it.”

“It's so much warmer there.”, the other man chimed in gloomily, speaking with an accent much akin to the first man's. “Sevilla; where we lived, Tomás and I. Before we decided to start over in the colonies _._ ”

One of the other hunters, the one next to Ratonhnhaké:ton, suddenly chortled: “Oh! You have to tell our new friend _the story_ , Manuel!”

The paler and apparently grumpier Spaniard groaned and one of the elder hunters yelled: “Not again, Jim! No-one likes to hear about it but you.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton looked questioningly from one to the other.  
“A story?”

Tomás – though still shaking – grinned.  
“¡Vale! Let me tell it.”  
At this all hunters but Jim groaned in unison. Tomás didn't particularly seem to mind.  
“There was this woman on board of the ship we took to get here.”, he told enthusiastically. “She was mysterious in a way."

“Wasn't 'mysterious'. It just was the first time he ever met a noble woman.”

“Bueno, then you tell it, Manuel.”

Manuel took a moment to look especially ill-tempered before he began telling his version of the events:

Apparently it was unusual for their ship to carry anything but its crew and goods. So, when this woman boarded the ship, the sailors assumed she had simply mistaken the dock. But then their captain told them that the señorita was to stay as a passenger. When a few of them started asking questions, the captain ignored them. Instead he made very clear that no-one of the crew was to speak to her (“If you know what is good for you.”, as he had put it). Of course this only led to speculations running wild; each and every one of the sailors seemed to have a theory about “The Woman”. Especially Tomás, who told everyone willing to listen at least three different stories a day.  
Apart from the wild speculations nothing of interest happened during the first weeks.  
Then the cook started to notice two people talking right above his cabin, whispering in the dead of the night – every night – barely audible over the sound of the Atlantic waves; he could only tell that they were definitely a man's and a woman's voice.  
He tried to find out who the man was, but even with his friends' help he failed in finding the mysterious couple. The two of them always seemed to vanish into thin air whenever the cook and the others were convinced to have cornered them.  
When they finally reached the colonies and everyone was busy preparing to berth, Manuel noticed that one of the jollyboats was missing; the captain was angrily shouting for his missing first mate; the woman's cabin was found unlocked and she, too, was nowhere to be found. When they found the letters (one from the first mate addressed to his captain and one from the woman to a colonial associate), they knew for sure who the woman's nightly visitor had been.  
The mate's letter explained that he had started talking to her against their orders because she had seemed so very lonely. Over the few months of their journey they had – according to his letter – fallen in love. Due to her secrets (he claimed that even he didn't know them) they hadn't been able to leave the ship with everyone else. They had stolen the jollyboat once they were close enough to the coast to elope.  
In the end, no-one but the captain knew why this woman had come to the colonies under such mysterious circumstances in the first place. The captain had turned pale upon reading the letter and had been heard murmuring _“They're going to kill me.”_  
This, of course, had only led to many more colourful theories and stories amongst the crew.

“I bet”, Tomás said when Manuel had finished, “she was a spy of the crown!”

“The name of the ship; what is she called?”, Ratonhnhaké:ton asked slowly.

“Why, it's the Santa Teresa, didn't we mention?”


	4. Chapter 4

He knew it was wrong, but he hadn't felt this happy in weeks; his father wouldn't marry.  
Still, Ratonhnhaké:ton was worried for Carina de Ferrer, her actions could be interpreted as betrayal of the Templar Order. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her for what she did. No-one should be forced into marriage. It should be about love, equality and companionship – not about politics.  
Taking this string of thoughts about partnership as a hint, his treacherous mind whispered: _“Your father has chosen Thomas to be with. Maybe he makes him happy. Who are you to condemn them for what they did?”_  
The leather of his gloves made a crunching noise as he gripped the reins tighter. His horse sensed his inner turmoil and snorted unhappily. Ratonhnhaké:ton breathed deeply to calm down and then patted the animal's neck, murmuring soft words in his mother tongue.  
This inner voice had to be silenced.  
Deciding that feeling guilty wouldn't change a thing, he made up his mind to apologise.

First he went to see Thomas (because that was the easier task, if he was being honest).  
If he remembered correctly, the man had told him he was stationed at Valley Forge. Thomas surely was about to return to his garrison right now and Ratonhnhaké:ton doubted he'd make it back to Boston in time to meet his friend there.

 

When Ratonhnhaké:ton reached the encampment of the Continental Army, a few lonesome snow crystals floated through the crisp air, glistering in the dying light of the sun. He was more than glad that he didn't have to spend another night out in the woods.  
He dismounted his horse and began scanning the soldiers of the camp, alternately with his eagle vision and his normal view, looking for the golden or blueish glow and familiar faces.

The familiar face he finally spotted didn't exactly brighten his mood. Commander In Chief George Washington had spotted him, too, and instantly fled into one of the tents. Ratonhnhaké:ton was overcome with a weird mixture of anger and self-satisfaction by the panic he saw in the other's eyes.  
At first, when Charles Lee had told him the truth about the burning of his village, he hadn't believed a word. He had gone to ask Washington himself, absolutely sure that this was but another attempt of the General to compromise the Commander. As he'd confronted his friend, though, Washington had begun to stammer and stutter apologies and excuses.  
Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't regret not killing him; he was important for this very nation-to-be. That didn't stop the young Templar from hating the man, though.

Then he finally found Thomas, who was sitting by himself, cleaning his musket.  
“I came to talk to you.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton said as he briskly walked over to his friend.

Thomas eyes widened slightly.  
“Oh, hiya Donny … Uhm, right.”, he murmured. “But let's go somewhere more private.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded in agreement; a crowd of wary and curious soldiers had gathered behind the tall native who had wordlessly (and quite suspiciously, too, as they thought) wandered through the encampment in search for someone or something.  
Thomas shouted: “Oi! Are ya lot bored? Ya want me to give ya something to do?”  
He was met with mumbled “No, sir”s and “Apologies, sir”s, then the gathering slowly dissolved.

The two men made their way to a quieter part of the camp in silence. Casting his friend a glance, Ratonhnhaké:ton noticed that Thomas actually looked as nervous as he felt himself.  
Did he think that Ratonhnhaké:ton was still mad at him?  
As they came to a halt, he wanted to reassuringly put a hand on his friends shoulder, but while he completely understood that Thomas hadn't done anything wrong, his heart still clenched painfully at the relatively fresh memory of what he had seen in his father's room, so he wasn't too sure he could make the gesture stay friendly. Instead he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“I am sorry for my behaviour back in Boston.”, he simply said.

Thomas gawped at him.  
“You wot?”, he asked, utterly confused. After a while of mutual staring he continued: “Wot the fuck are _you_ sorry for?!”

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned, rather confused at Thomas' confusion himself.  
“I was wrong. Hence I am sorry.”

Thomas chuckled weakly, shaking his head in disbelieve.  
“Donny-boy, ya don't has to be sorry for nothin'. It's actually me part to apologise here. I mean, I know how ya feel 'bout Haytham. Fuck.”, he said softly.

Ratonhnhaké:ton tilted his head back a bit.  
“Then why did you do it?”

“Er, yeah. Well, ya _did_ ask us if we're doin' this regularly …”

“You do? … With my father?”, Ratonhnhaké:ton quietly asked.

“Well, yeah.”, Thomas smiled seemingly exhausted. When he saw the look on his friend's face he hurried to continue his explanation: “Ya see, we has this _arrangement_. Since back in the 60s. I was drunk – like I'm most of the time, but wotever”, he shrugged, “ – and I was bored 'cos Mr Johnson was with'is wife, ol' Gist was out'n 'bout huntin' Assassins and I was in the mood for a bloke tha' day, so I asked Haytham if he'd like to bang me.”  
Ratonhnhaké:ton raised his brows, Thomas shrugged again.  
“Ya know he doesn't get angry at me for stuff like tha'. But anyway, thing was, he jus' gave me one of his little, creepy almost-smirks and said ' _Why not._ '!”

“ … and that is all?”

“Nah. He _did_ bang me; after tha' he came back to me occasionally for a nice ol' fuck. When I asked why me, he said he don't want any romantic stuff anyway and tha' he trusts me to keep my mouth shut 'bout everythin'. I didn't really had a problem with tha'.” A dirty little grin appeared on Thomas' face, just to turn serious again a moment later. “And when I learned tha' ya fancy ya pa I didn't know wot to say. _'Hey, Donny, by the way: no offence, bu' I sorta bang with ya ol' man.'_? Or wot could I tell Haytham? _'Yeah, sorry, can't do naughty stuff with ya anymore 'cos ya son has a thing for ya'_ ?”

“ … I see.”  
Ratonhnhaké:ton concentrated on an especially mean-looking pebble at his feet.  
After what felt like an hour of uneasy silence, he suddenly remembered something: “De Ferrer … ”, he looked up, “She will not be hunted for running away, will she?”

“How d'ya know 'bout de Ferrer?”

“I met two former crewmen of the Santa Teresa in the Frontier who told me about her.” When Thomas gave him a puzzled look, he explained: “They had joined a group of hunters.”

“I see. Nah, don't worry, she'll be left alone. Haytham said tha' elopin' was the best thing she could has done. Cos now the European Order's kinda in our debt, ya know? They hasn't fulfilled them part of the deal after all.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “That is good. She meant no harm; she just wanted her own life. And maybe it was about love, too.”

“Speakin' o' which … ”, Thomas began lamely. Then he faltered. “I'm actually no' s'pposed to tell ya. But ya deserve to know, I think.”

Watching his Templar brother in expectant confusion, Ratonhnhaké:ton waited calmly.

“Sometimes … when I'm with ya pa … ”

“I do not really want to hear this.”

“But ya do, Donny, and ya has to know! Sometimes, when he's … ya know, _close_ and too far 'way to notice … there's one name he splutters: _'Connor'_.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton took a moment to process this new information.  
Finally he asked: “Why would he do that? If it is mutual, why did he turn me down when I told him about how I felt?”

Thomas burst into laughter. “Fuck! Donny, ya told him? Really?”

“I did. About half a day before I found the two of you together.”, Ratonhnhaké:ton said in irritation.

“No wonder he was so bloody turned on! Burst into me room and just said tha' he 'required me services'.” Then, he did an astonishingly good imitation of an impatient Haytham: “ _And no, Thomas; this isn't about work for the Order, as you can clearly tell!_ ”  
As Ratonhnhaké:ton glared at him wordlessly, Thomas sighed.  
“Don't ya understand? He's ya pa after all. He _wants_ ya, bu' he also wants _what's best_ for ya.”

“He has no right to make this decision for me. I do not care about social norms nor laws; I killed so many people for the Order … and I will kill many more to come; why would my father think _love_ , of all things, to be inappropriate for me?”

Thomas shrugged.

“I will talk to him. You have my thanks for telling me, Thomas.”

“Good luck! I jus' hope Haytham won't has me head for it … ”  
Thomas gave his friend a grin. Still, he looked slightly anxious.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton left Valley Forge the next morning with the first light of the sun. He didn't want to lose any more time. If his father really felt the same way he did, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn't have any of his parental concerns.  
Everything be damned; it felt right, it _couldn't_ be wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have most certainly noticed at this point, English isn't my mother tongue. That's why writing Thomas Hickey has given me quite a headache, because I don't really know whether I did a good imitation of his accent or not... I've spent several hours listening to his lines in ACIII but I'm still not too sure about it...  
> So! If I've let him say anything really awkward or wrong-ish, please do tell me so I can change it, dear native speakers ♥


	5. Epilogue

**6 months later**

  
Ratonhnhaké:ton closed the door to the larder, just to grab his father by the collar and push him against it.

“Son, I-”, Haytham began, but was interrupted by a mouth, which was desperately crushed against his. “Could you-” _Kiss._ “I just arrived, I'd really like to-” _Kiss._ “Oh, for the father of-!” _Kiss._ “-Understanding's sake, boy!”  
Intending to claim the older Templar's mouth once again, Ratonhnhaké:ton was stopped in his tracks when he felt a hand pressing against his chest. He answered with a low, frustrated whine and a questioning gaze.

“I'm tired, we'll continue our little … well, _hanky-panky_ … tomorrow.”, Haytham stated demonstratively sternly, yet (undignifyingly) out of breath.

Ratonhnhaké:ton leaned closer, resting his head against Haytham's. “Missed you.”, he mumbled.

Haytham had been away the last few weeks, meeting with an old friend in New York who had recently returned to the colonies. Ratonhnhaké:ton had stayed at home, watching over the plantation and doing paperwork for the Order. The work had been dull at least, but it had bothered him way more that Haytham had just left after they had shared a bed for the first time. The memory was enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton unconsciously rub his groin against his father's, at which Haytham took a shaky breath.

“Heavens! I can clearly tell you did, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton took the older Templar's hand and massaged it absent-mindedly. “Did you not miss me, father?”

Furrowing his brows, Haytham stroked his son's cheek with his free hand. “Of course I did, you stupid boy.”, he murmured as he closed the narrow gap between the both of them for one more kiss.

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this tiny little story, everyone =)  
> Thank you so much for reading till the end and saying so many nice things in the comments! >___<  
> ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> PS: I'm thinking about a theme for the next short conhayth story. My current ideas:  
> \- "Dishonored" AU with Lord Kenway and his Outsider-powered bastard  
> \- Haytham disguises as a lady and Connor kind of likes it  
> \- tiny little one-shot bondage pwp with Haytham as very gentle dom (body worship)  
> \- fem!Haytham/fem!Connor AU  
> \- wolf-"boy" AU (ears, tails, fangs): also a tiny little one-shot pwp with wolfish behaviour  
> \- A/B/O AU  
> I've also been thinking about  
> one longer conhayth vampire AU story (with an OMC precursor, and Edward will be there, too)  
> and about writing a short Gist/Shay(AC Rogue) story.  
> It'd be great if you left your thoughts on my ideas in the comments =3 (or maybe you'd like me to do something entirely different)


End file.
